


Beginning of a Routine

by BlackNBlueUnderOrange



Category: Bleach
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Middle School, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 15:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8537977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackNBlueUnderOrange/pseuds/BlackNBlueUnderOrange
Summary: He stood unmoving in front of someone with a good six inches on him, even seated.





	

"This is my mom's hair, and I'm not dyeing it black just so you'll think I look less like the delinquent I'm not!"

The shout had rung out across the room like wood splintering. You raised your head from your grading to see the pinched expression of Mr. Ikeda growing redder by the second at the scrunched nose and steady glower of the twelve year old in front of him.

You recognized the child--Ichigo Kurosaki was shorter than most of his classmates, rounder-cheeked, and his bright, foreign red hair was like a neon sign directing attention toward him. He was usually a quiet child. You remember him for his intense gaze when your topics interested him, and how slow he was to react to the other children's teasing, as though he had trouble processing how ridiculous he thought they were. He avoided confrontation, you thought. But as you see him now, unmoving in front of someone who had a good six inches on him even while seated, you begin to revise that opinion.

##  \- - - 

Two days later, your class ends to break for lunch. You're sedately gathering your materials when you glance up and notice Ichigo dawdling at his desk. As the last of the other students stroll out the classroom, he looks up, and when he notices your gaze, his eyes brighten and he straightens to approach the front of the room.

"Did you need anything?" you ask, tamping your curiosity over the stir in the faculty room not long ago to something more professional.

His gaze, which had been steady, darts nervously to the corner before returning to yours. "I was just... wondering if there was any time this week where I could get some help with this material I don't quite understand."

You find, when you meet with him later, that he'd read ahead in his textbooks, and over the following weeks the other teacher's gossip makes it astonishingly apparent that he's doing the same in all his subjects.


End file.
